Disclosure
by creamxsoda
Summary: While in search of a missing friend, high school classmates Edward Elric, Ling Yao and Paninya find something they weren't meant to find. (Alternative Universe - High School, Government Experimentation, 80s. Heavily inspired by Stranger Things. Eventual Edvy.)
1. Dungeons & Dragons

**November 6th, 1984**

 _"Something is coming. Something hungry for blood. A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness."_

Four wired teenagers sit in the basement of the Elric residence, a game of _DD_ laid out on the table before them.

"What is it?" Al's amber eyes are fixed on Edward. He fiddles anxiously with the end of his sweater.

Meanwhile, Ling 'Fatass' Yao (courtesy of Edward Elric) shovels a handful of salted popcorn into his mouth, "what if it's the Demogorgon? Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon!" he cried through a mouthful as he leaned over the table, knocking over Paninya's drink. All three ignored the string of angry exclamations and profanities that followed. After returning from the kitchen with a cloth to wipe herself down Paninya flumps back into her seat with a sigh. "It's not the Demogorgon," she insists, and Edward continues.

"An army of _Troglodytes_ charge into the chamber!" he suddenly slams a game piece onto the board. From the looks on their faces Edward could glean that everyone was most likely underwhelmed or relieved by this revelation.

"Troglodytes?" Ling asks flatly.

Paninya smiles gloatingly and shoves a forefinger at him, "told ya!" everyone laughs, but Edward is silent.

"Wait a minute..." his eyebrows furrow in mock confusion. The acting isn't convincing, in fact it isn't remotely good, but when you were this invested in the game it apparently didn't matter. "Do you hear that? That... that sound? Boom... boom... _BOOM!"_ the three listeners jerk back as Edward smacks his palms against the table. The game pieces nearly fall over and Paninya has to grab her replenished drink to stop it from spilling again. "That didn't come from the Troglodytes, no, that– that came from something else," Edward gave them all a serious look, nodding his head. There was a long moment of silence, the air eerie and suffocating. (Anyone else would've scoffed and shook their head at the unnecessary exaggeration). Alphonse, Paninya and Ling spare each other worried glances.

 _(What was it?)_

Edward drew a breath, and in one swift movement put down another game piece. The table shakes. This piece is a dragonesque creature with two heads sprouting from two snake-like necks, it's arms ending in long tentacles and it's thick tail forking off into two pointed ends.

 _"The Demogorgon!"_

"We're in deep shit," Ling threw his hands up in hopeless defeat and leaned back in his chair. Alphonse nervously drummed his fingers on the table, brow creased thoughtfully as he assessed his next move, and Paninya simply shook her head in disbelief.

Edward whips around to look at his brother, "Al, your action?!"

"I don't know!"

"Fireball him!" yells Paninya.

Alphonse looks uncertain, "I'd have to roll a thirteen or higher!"

"No–! Too risky! Cast a protection spell," Ling says and Paninya rolls her eyes, nettled.

"Don't be a pussy. Fireball him!"

"Cast protection!"

"Enough!" Edward struck the tabletop with his fists, "the Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering! It stomps towards you. . . _boom!"_

 _"Fireball him!"_

 _"– Another stomp. Boom!"_

 _"Cast protection!"_

 _" – He roars in anger!"_

"Ahh... umm..." it was impossible for Alphonse to hear his thoughts over the loud and frenetic demands to _'cast this'_ or _'use that'_ so he briefly thinks _'screw it'_ , picks up two die, shakes them in his hands and rolls, "fireball!" he yells, and the pair of cubes fly off of the table. All four of them leapt from their seats and began to search frantically on their hands and knees.

 _"Oh, shit!"_

 _"Where'd it go?"_

 _"Where is it?"_

 _"I don't know!"_

 _"Is it a thirteen?"_

 _"I don't know!"_

Edward had started to search by the bottom of the staircase. At the sound of a door opening he looked up and saw the figure of his mother in the doorway. "Ed, Al, it's late! Your friends need to go home!" she calls, and before her son can protest she's gone again. Ed glanced at the three of them, quite torn, before he scampers up to the second floor, placing his hands on the stairs for extra balance along the way.

"Just give us twenty more minutes."

Edward's mother was at the kitchen counter, making tomorrow's school lunch; even with her back turned to him the severity in her voice was palpable. Trisha was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be. "It's a school night, Edward. You can finish next weekend."

"But that'll ruin the flow!"

"Edward."

"I'm serious, mom! The campaign took two weeks to plan," he suddenly wilted, "...how was I supposed to know it was gonna take ten hours?"

Trisha finally turned around, eyebrows raised incredulously. "You've been playing for _ten hours?"_

"I– yeah, but... twenty more minutes! ... Please?" Edward never got an answer, but the way Trisha drew her lips in a tight line and crossed her arms said enough. _Tell your friends to go home and get yourself to bed before I ground you._

The blonde sighed and went back to the basement without another word, Trisha smiled sweetly and returned to the lunches. "Did you find them?" he asked on the way down. Alphonse nodded his head, dispirited.

"It got me... the Demogorgon. I rolled a seven."

"Shit," Edward groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. He then turned to Ling and Paninya, pointing behind him with his thumb, "alright losers, time to go. Mom's orders."

"Yeah, yeah," Paninya stretched her arms above her head and sighed happily at the sound of joints popping. What a long campaign that had been. "See you at school," she pulled on her raincoat and backpack – she only ever wore one strap on her shoulder, Edward had noticed a long time ago; it looked cool – and quickly ascended the stairs. Everyone waved goodbye. Ling did the same, with the addition of putting on his baseball cap and quickly picking up the pizza box that was left on the couch. "Anyone want the last slice?" he asked, but knowing Ling he would eat it regardless.

"Nah," Edward waved dismissively and Alphonse shook his head, seemingly disinterested. Edward knew better; he was thinking. About what, he didn't know. The brothers followed Ling up the stairs and went to the front of the house, where Paninya was waiting on her bike. Ling, with the pizza box tucked securely underneath his arm, put up the kickstand of his own bike with the heel of his shoe and pedalled off into the night with her.

 _"See ya!"_

 _"Bye!"_

 _"You still haven't given me your X–Men 134!"_

 _"I'll bring it tomorrow, Pipsqueak!"_

 ** _"Shut the fuck up, fatass!"_**

Alphonse shook his head, arms wrapped around his shoulders to try and protect himself from the intensity of the biting air. "I'm going to bed," he mumbled, stifling a yawn and shuffling back inside. Edward followed.

"Yeah, me too," he closed the door behind him and headed for the staircase. Somehow he'd managed to say _'goodnight, mom'_ in perfect unison with Al – eliciting an _'aww'_ from his mother – and that was _embarrassing_ so he was already gone before Trisha could fit in another word. After promptly slamming his bedroom door, Edward stripped down until he was only in boxers and odd socks (Trisha would've nearly killed him for that one if she had noticed), and then quite happily fell into bed. There was no feeling better in the world, Edward had decided, than being able to lay down after a long, tiring day. Your bones ached and your eyelids felt heavy and sometimes you just felt too hot or too cold but the bedsheets and soft pillows beneath your head made a great assuagement for your discomfort.

Edward smiled happily to himself and switched off his lamp, about to roll onto his side and drift off into a much needed sleep before he heard the staticky voice of Alphonse through his walkie–talkie.

 _"Brother?"_

Edward murmured something unintelligible. Grudgingly he took the walkie–talkie from his nightstand, bringing it up to his face and pressing down on the PTT _(push–to–talk)_ button. "Mm, what is it?" he asked tiredly and released the button, waiting for a response.

 _"... Goodnight, I love you."_ That reply had taken a little too long in Edward's opinion. It felt like Al wanted to say something else. And, even if he was the sweetest kid Edward knew, he didn't usually say _'I love you'_ before bed.

"Uhm, yeah– goodnight, love you too..." he frowned, "are you okay?"

Another pause.

 _"Yeah, I'm fine."_ Something was wrong, but Edward chose not to press for details. Alphonse wasn't usually ashamed to show his wounds, so he would let his brother bring it up when he felt comfortable enough. A bad idea, the older one would later realise.

"... Kay, see you tomorrow." He put the walkie–talkie down and finally tucked himself underneath the sheets, falling asleep instantly.

It was six in the morning when Edward was gently shook awake.

It was six in the morning when Edward, bleary–eyed and delirious from other–worldly dreams, noticed that his mother had been crying.

It was six in the morning when he sat up in bed and saw the Police Chief, Roy Mustang (bastard), stood in the doorway with a solemn look.

 _(What the hell was going on?)_

It was six in the morning when Edward had learned that Alphonse was missing.

* * *

 **If you haven't noticed, yes, this was originally going to be a Stranger Things AU, hence the beginning of this chapter basically copying the ST script word for word. I have no idea how DD works and I didn't want to get anything inaccurate, which is why I chose to do that. Usually I don't copy scripts when writing AUs and this was probably the only exception. Obviously, this isn't a Stranger Things AU anymore, I've decided to wing it with the plot but I have a good understanding of how I'll wrap this all up. There's going to be a lot of Stranger Things–inspired elements though, since the show was the original motive of this story.**

 **I don't like putting OCs in fan–fictions but they're simply there to fill the gaps – I won't make them major characters unless absolutely necessary.**

 **Another thing: reviews are going to make me update a hell of a lot quicker. Juuust saying.**


	2. Free

Test Subject 07 ran for his life.

He could barely differentiate the harrowing sirens of the lab facility from horrified screams and the fire of ammunition and the continuous thud of pursuing footfall. It all overlapped and became one grating cacophony that angered and confused him so strongly that tears stung his eyes. The only noise his brain could register was the sharp palpitation of his heart and the head splitting shrill of something demonic.

 _They were getting closer._

The test subject shut his eyes to the myriad of bodies and blood and blinking lights, and advanced towards safety with these alarming thoughts fresh in mind. _Get out get out get out._

 _Elevator – elevator's full. Blood. Dead bodies. It got them._

He went back and turned another corner.

 _Long hallway. Blood again_. Father. _Father's there._

'Father' was in a sorry state; it looked like he had run into one of those things and somehow _(barely)_ lived. His ashen face and bloody, shredded clothes really complimented the 'practically dead' look. There was an uneasy moment of stillness between them before he gave a hollow smile that didn't quite reach his flaxen eyes, and he outstretched his hand towards his precious subject.

"Seven, it's alright. Come here."

Seven barely escaped the seizing hand of the man he called his father as he turned and bolted. He pushes through a set of doors, ignoring the disembowelled soldiers that lie dead before them. 'Father' watched him flee in barely contained anger, pocketed the sedative he was hiding behind his back, and gave chase.

 _Why did it all look the_ same? _Was he going in circles?_

Seven halted in a room that branched off into several more hallways _(fuck)_. He wailed and stomped his foot in frustration, turning in a full circle to observe his possible escape routes. _Stairs to Third Floor - no, that was up. B15 Subject Analysis Lab - no. B16 Equipment Prep Area, B17 Wet Room, Stairs to Ground Floor -_ Stairs to ground floor!

Blinking away his tears and forcing out any urges in his being to obey the distant and angry demands of his so–called father to _'get back here this moment'_ (like he always did), Test Subject 07 set off again. He made two rights and then a left, leaping over bodies and sidestepping blood. The first floor was something he had only ever been to once in his life, but he had always remembered the enthralling place. It was the closest thing to freedom he'd ever seen: through the windows he had felt a cool, pleasing draft and seen a pale expanse of blue blotched with huge masses of fluffy white. He had furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes at the natural yet so unnatural sunlight and smiled. The happiness was short–lived. As he was dragged away to the Analysis Lab he had screamed and cried and _begged_ to see more. But he never did.

He was going to now, Seven had promised himself. He was getting out of this place, no matter what. For a fleeting moment he glanced behind his shoulder, caught sight of the man that was only inches away, and sped up. He turned another right and skidded in blood, immediately regaining his balance in an otherwise graceful way if it weren't for the grisly ambience around him. His heart rejoiced at the sight of descending stairs at the end of the hall. He was close. Good.

 _"Seven, get back here!"_

Then again...

Seven swore under his breath (he'd learnt that particular word from an aid who had struggled to drag him back to the cold empty box that was his room) and looked around: ahead was an open door. That could help. It was heavy and made of metal and he was sure that if you were hit hard enough it would do some damage. It was his only hope, he quickly decided. No time to ponder. He took a deep breath and concentrated. Time seemed to slow. One half of his consciousness dug far down into his mind, accessing something that no normal person would've been able to, while the other half stayed on the door, focused... and _locked_. Time sped up again. Seven ran past the door and viciously swung out his left arm; the heavy metal tore off of its hinges, and at the sound of collision he had smiled _._

It had only stunned his pursuer though, unbeknownst to him. Seven hadn't bothered to check.

The pressure in his head intensified in painful waves and Seven reeled towards the stairway, beginning to descend them quickly and clumsily. He finally lost his balance at the last six steps and fell the rest of the way. His head hit the ground and he saw stars, but by some miracle he quickly recovered from the shock. It had taken three attempts to actually stand up again, the first two of which he had gotten knocked back down by head–rush and landed hard on his backside. Once Seven was on his feet again he staggered for the exit across the entrance hall. He fell heavily against the glass doors like a rag doll. They were hefty, for what he assumed was security reasons or precaution. He growled through clenched teeth and gave a hard push. One door opened just enough beneath his weight for him to slip through.

Taking a deep, heady breath of the outside air was intoxicating. It made him feel light and airy and not quite there – the way he felt when they drugged him for the tank. But Seven didn't like the tank. It was cold and dark and wet and lonely and, just like his room, he always felt trapped whenever he was in it. They only used the hallucinatory drugs when he cried enough. Seven had been faking it most of the time, just so he wouldn't have to acknowledge how truly confined he was. Confined, however, certainly wasn't something he felt now.

Seven raised his hand to try and touch the tiny, little white lights floating in the inky blackness of the sky. It looked different from what he remembered. It was dark. Usually he didn't like the dark, but right now he adored it. Seven smiled and wondered where all the water was coming from. A shower, maybe? But he could see no shower.

His amazement was soon interrupted. The sound of voices was enough to send him running around the corner of the building. Guards. So it wasn't just Father who had survived, then. Shame. As he wiped his bleeding nose with the back of his shaky hand, Seven wondered if he had enough energy to finish the rest of them off in favour of the creatures that were still barrelling through the facility right now.

No. As much as he wanted to kill every last person responsible for his pain, he didn't think he had the strength to do it right now. So Seven had made the wise decision to run off again. He almost sobbed despairingly at the sight of a barbed–wire fence. As he doubled his fists and tried not to cry, he thought. He thought, and he thought, and he thought some more. And, finally, his brain decided to be useful.

The test subject fixed the bottom of the fence with an intense stare; his nose bled, his ears rang, and... he couldn't do it. Seven closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. _Too weak._

 _"No, I'm not."_ Was his bitter response to the discouraging voice inside of his head. He tried again. Seven gave the fence a look as if it were something truly disgusting that he had found on the bottom of his shoe (even though he didn't own any shoes), but this attempt proved to be just as unsuccessful as the last. He sighed waveringly and, as a final resort, thought of something he hated more than the nonexistent thing on the bottom of his nonexistent shoe, something he hated even more than the sensory deprivation tank, or his uncomfortable bed, or the monster. Seven thought of his _father_ , and at last the metal at the bottom of the fence started to groan and uproot. As it bent upwards and out of shape Seven's twisted, disoriented mind visualised it as Father's brittle bones. He wondered how much deformation the human spine could handle before it would break. He smiled grimly. His nose and ears gushed with blood, his head felt as if it were to rupture like a ballon with too much air, his thin body tremored violently and his eyes stung, but he still laughed. The tears fell and he laughed some more. He crawled through the small opening he had created and struggled to get up again, stumbling across the grass and falling against a tree about five feet away. The laughter eventually died down to nothing but soft pants and pathetic sniffles. Seven could already feel his surroundings becoming distant and his body numb. His brain was getting ready to shut down for the night. That was what always happened when he strained himself; he would collapse. But he couldn't – not here, not so close. As pleasing as the thought of falling unconscious and being found _(or worse: eaten alive)_ was, Seven began to seek refuge until he was well enough to stop seeing double. It was difficult to focus on anything. His sight was foggy and grey and when he had found a log to catch his fall he was just about ready to give up. But then he had registered a strange yet somehow familiar sound – the faint growling of a predatory creature, something that was ready to pounce and tear him to shreds. With the little strength he had left he forced himself to strain his ears and listen closer. When his brain finally clicked and recognised _what_ the noise was coming from he felt his blood run cold. It hadn't been from something that inhabited the miles of thick forest around the lab facility, no, this particular creature had escaped from the _inside_. If it didn't have the clear intent to kill him, Seven might've felt pity for once in his life. It had probably been afraid like him, hadn't it? Had it been imprisoned and tortured in the name of science just as him? The creature snarled again.

He was rooted. Every instinct in his body was screaming _'run'_ , but his brain wasn't listening and his limbs were frozen stiff. Seven glanced behind his shoulder slowly and saw feathers. So it was a chimera. Not much of an improvement, but at least he knew what it was. Father had been disturbingly enthusiastic when he'd told an unwilling Test Subject 07 about those particular creatures. Aside from them, Seven had no idea what other living things were being tortured in that place. The monster he had set free was something he'd never seen or heard of before in his life. And it was hungry, judging by the lack of limbs and organs he'd noticed when running by the ones who hadn't made it ( _good_ , Seven thought angrily). It couldn't eat forever, could it? Where could it possibly go after it would decide that it was full? Maybe it's hunger for human flesh could never be sated. It would only be so long before the remaining staff in the building were devoured, and if Seven's theory was correct... _he_ could be the next one on it's to–eat list.

But that thing wasn't here yet, was it? No. There was only a chimera, with habits and instincts he understood well. That was good. Kind of.

With a newly found rush of stamina, Seven had taken a deep breath and ran. The huge feathered creature quickly gave pursuit. As it shrieked he winced and clapped his hands over his ears, not only from the way it made his headache intensify, like thin spikes piercing through the inside of his skull, but from how _horrible_ it was. It wrenched his spine and made his stomach drop unpleasantly and when his foot had been swallowed up in deep mud he truly believed it was over for him. Seven fell to the ground with a wet thud, hands and feet slipping uselessly in the mire as he tried to stand. Amidst his panic he heard the chimera pounce and he turned on his side quickly. A set of canine teeth lunged for him and he barely had time to try and kick it away. Its jaw closed tightly around his ankle and Seven cried, flesh tearing as he tried desperately to pull his leg free. The chimera persisted. He looked left and right, through the darkness noticing a log small enough to carry but thick enough to hurt someone if you swung with ample strength. Seven wasn't sure how much it would hurt something like a chimera but he wasn't going to sit there and let his right leg be torn from its socket, so he reached for the log, snatching it up from the mud with a strong yank before bringing it down hard on the creature's head. The impact had made its teeth dig in deeper, which made Seven wail, but then it had released its jaw from his leg with a dog–like cry. Warm blood ran down his calf but he paid no mind, immediately stabbing the log into the ground and using it to haul himself back up. He scrambled away while the chimera recovered from its shock (that unfortunately hadn't taken long), and once again continued his desperate search for safety. Through the trees and the rain and the haze of his exhausted mind, Seven noticed a dark opening: a burrow which he hadn't hesitated to dive into stomach–first. He turned over and pushed himself back until he was pressed against the wall of the small animal cave, glad to find that whatever creature had dug its way in here was no longer inhabiting the muddy tunnel. The insects and other tiny creatures that had taken its place weren't much of a bother right now; Seven watched the chimera skid to a halt outside of the borrow's mouth, his heavy breaths filling up the silence of the hole with an unsettling echo. It was too large to reach him from in here, even with its long–ish neck and protruding snout. He was fine. He was safe.

But poor Seven had misjudged the chimera's size, failing to realise that its feathers made it appear much bigger than what it was. The chimera began to squeeze itself through the entrance, and Seven's distant world crumbled around him. "No!" He cried. "No, you can't!"

 _This was it_ , he lamented, _this was where he died. For good_. Not in the Analysis Room where he had screamed fearfully enough to tear open a gateway to only god knew where, not where an extraterrestrial monster had invited itself in, not in the lobby where he had landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs or in the woods where he had fallen in the mud. _Now_. It was _now_ , cornered in a cramped little burrow, cold, drenched, alone and _scared_. He would be eaten alive by this thing and whatever was left behind of Seven would never be found. His bones would slowly decay and he would be forgotten. He would never see the rest of the world and he would never–

(The chimera was dragged away).

Seven could only watch in stupefied shock as it was pulled back through the mouth of the burrow and lifted out of sight. His ears only just managed to pick up on the disgusting sound of tearing flesh and snapping bones. Blood spilled at the entrance like a red cascade and the mewling of the chimera that he felt no guilt for was abruptly cut short. He might've felt relief, but when the mystery attacker had dropped the chimera's body and slowly crouched to leer at him through the entrance, Seven had to press two hands against his mouth to suppress a sob. This was worse. Far worse. An ugly cluster of teeth and flesh and gore nearly filled up the entire mouth of the burrow – its face – and a guttural growl came from the thing. From the monster. His expression went flat. After attempting to push itself into the burrow (and not quite fitting), it outstretched an arm that was long enough to reach Seven, long enough so it could seize him and drag him out just like it had the chimera. A dark claw grazed his cheek and his face spasmed underneath the unpleasant touch. Seven simply shut his eyes and thought of those strange little white lights. He thought of the breeze, and the shower in the sky, and the trees. Perhaps that would ensue his death. Or maybe there would be nothing. A cold void of darkness and isolation that would stretch on and on forever. Something he wasn't unfamiliar with, but certainly afraid of. Seven didn't want to go there. _Please, anywhere but there. Please_.

He opened his eyes. The tunnel was empty.

Seven had to knuckle his bleary eyes to make sure his poor, damaged brain wasn't playing any tricks on him. He was met with nothing once again. With a pained groan he pushed himself forward and onto his hands and knees, scrambling out into the open. He'd much rather be out here with the monster than cornered in that claustrophobic little hole. Seven turned in a full circle and almost missed the creature in the darkness. He was struck with a sudden anxiety now that he could observe the rest of it a little closer; it almost looked human, had it not been for the long limbs and pitch–black skin that glistened slimily underneath the moonlight. Seven was at least glad that it's open, flower–like face was turned away. A disgusting flower. Like petals of dark flesh lined with thousands of sharp, needle teeth. Why was it turned away, Seven wondered. That's when he realised it was looking at something, _someone_. For a split second he noticed a head of blonde hair that quickly vanished into the shadows, most likely to never be seen again (judging by how quickly the monster had followed them). The stranger looked too young to be a guard or nurse or in fact anyone at all that would work willingly at the lab; another test subject, maybe? Seven involuntarily winced. Shouldn't he feel the need to help his own? He didn't. Right now all he cared about was saving his own skin. Call him selfish, but no one in the world meant anything to him, including the strange kid with blonde hair. So Seven was already staggering off in the opposite direction. The more distance between him and this place, the better, of course.

He kept going until the rain had stopped and the mud on him had dried and the peaceful sound of birdsong began to fill the biting air of dawn. By now Seven had pushed himself and his brain to limits that his father would've been very pleased to see him reach but he, in spite of his 'achievement', felt like what he could only explain as utter _shit_ , and trying to perceive his surroundings was just as helpful as stargazing through a kaleidoscope. Seven staggered through some bushes, ignoring the sharp branches that mangled and tore his blue–spotted hospital gown. The soil beneath his feet became solid concrete. As he narrowed his eyes, he saw what he could only assume was a building, and before Seven could decide whether it was safe to stay he was on the ground. He felt something hard and rough against his cheek (which he would later realise was a doormat), and he found himself giving in.

But as Seven's consciousness began to drift, and as the sunrise peered over the trees and cast an amber warmth over his body, he realised that, no, he wasn't giving in, he was _free_.


	3. Thinking Realistically

**Oh boy.**

 **I apologise for how late this chapter is, my mood dropped out of nowhere. I went ahead and wrote this down in one day so you guys wouldn't be left hanging anymore (hence it being so short and rushed). I have had lots of free time to work on this, but I've hardly been managing to get out of bed and feed myself, let alone write down a semi–decent chapter. I won't go on with excuses, though. I'm truly sorry for how delayed the chapter is, and want to say a big thank you to those who left reviews, favourited and followed.**

* * *

No more than a few hours in the wake of Test Subject 07's escape, Edward Elric had followed his mother and Roy Mustang out of his room in an incredulous haze, unconsciously wrapping the bathrobe that was handed to him tight around his shoulders. His mother helped him into a kitchen chair and after staring at the red checker design of the tablecloth for another minute, his gaze turned furious.

"What do you mean, he's _missing?"_ Edward shifted his bleary eyes up to Roy. "It isn't like someone came in here and just _took_ him, I would've heard, his room is right next to mine."

Mustang frowned. He seemed troubled, and that certainly didn't make Edward feel any better. "I know. But there isn't enough evidence to suggest that he was actually taken."

Edward blinked, his expression switching from angry to confused and back to angry again in no more than three emotional seconds. "Now you're saying he ran away? He wouldn't! Al isn't like that– he doesn't– he..." His voice slowly lost its vigour, becoming something far more uncertain. Edward's brow furrowed and it suddenly looked as though he were about to burst into tears. He was awfully headstrong and intelligent for someone his age, it was often easy to forget how young he actually was. Mustang chose to ignore the twinge in his chest.

"I'm not saying anything," he answers, firm, "it's just a possibility."

Mustang, Trisha and Edward went over the details of last night; such as the very last thing they had seen Alphonse doing, his behaviour lately and anything that may have seemed unusual about it. From their conversation Edward gathered that Trisha had woken up at around five, checked on her sons and immediately called Mustang upon the discovery that her youngest was nowhere to be found. He had been off duty at the time and after a nightmare–riddled sleep, being woken up at the crack of dawn didn't feel wonderful at all.

In their small Midwestern town, Mustang was known to be an officer who, despite his own personal issues, 'got shit done'. His closeness with the Elric family was no secret either, so him being Trisha's go–to guy was not hard to understand in the least. He was rough around the edges yet one of the most reliable cops around here. He would get Alphonse back. He had to.

Edward hadn't realised that he'd zoned out (or began to cry) until Mustang laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. He snapped back to life with a jolt, quickly scrubbing the tears from his eyes and looking at him with a curious gaze.

"I'll find him, and I'll bring him home. Take care of your mother." For a second, just for a second, Edward saw an expression far gentler than what one would expect to see on the face of Roy Mustang. A firm nod was what he responded with, drawing in a deep breath.

"I will."

As he picked up his hat from the kitchen table and stood, Edward saw the (even more) concerned expression that contorted his mother's ashen face, her hands anxiously stressing the apron she always wore. "You're leaving?"

"I'll file a report and enquire the neighbours, see if they know anything. Those friends of yours– what did you say their names were?" Roy turns to Edward, who struggles to find his voice for a moment.

"Uhm– Ling. Yao. And Paninya Simmons."

He was already beelining for the kitchen door before either of them could say anything else.

"Wait–!" Trisha calls, "I'm coming with you."

"No," Mustang shook his head, "I need you to stay here, both of you. In case he comes back." Edward supposed he wouldn't be going to school, then. He considers grimly how that would've pleased him on any other day.

Roy heads out at last, brow creased in a deep frown as he thinks hard and rubs his jaw. Where would Alphonse Elric run off to? He was a good kid, very good. Never rebellious, always followed the rules. He couldn't think of many things that would prompt a well behaved boy such as him to run away. Nothing, besides...

"Hohenheim." He mumbled, stopping to dig his car keys out of his pocket. The father of Edward and Alphonse Elric hadn't been in the picture for long, Mustang knew that. He'd add him to his list of people to consult.

Disappearances weren't unfamiliar to Hawkins and its older residents. Growing up in the 60s, Mustang could recall many of them – not as an officer, but as a young man who had witnessed a handful of peers leave school one day and never return the next. Some serious disappearances had showed up here and there after he became a cop; though it was never long before those particular cases were given to someone of a higher authority (and never heard from again). That had always made him feel uneasy.

Something was _wrong_ , and until now Mustang had never had the nerve to even consider looking further into it. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits silently in the police car, his other hand squeezing the wheel until his knuckles turn white.

No. He was speculating too much. The kid probably just stayed at a friend's house or ran away to find his dad. Those were logical, realistic explanations. As Mustang turns on the ignition and pulls out of the driveway, he ignores the small instinctive voice in his head that tells him realistic is not the way to go this time.

* * *

 **With the way my mood has dropped, I've decided to stick firmly to the plot of Stranger Things instead of deviating and creating my own thing. I feel it will be easier to write and you guys will most likely get updates a lot quicker this way. I'll add my own elements, of course, and still change a few things up. I'd also like to apologise for my total lack of knowledge on what is supposed to be done when a person goes missing. Yikes.**

 **Alphonse went missing on the night of Envy's escape, by the way. Just to clarify. Honestly it's my fault for not making that clear enough and I'll try to work on it in the future.**


End file.
